


Every Color Under the Midnight Sky

by CookiesVersusCream



Series: Making the Best of Our Situation [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 20:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12992100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookiesVersusCream/pseuds/CookiesVersusCream
Summary: Merle knew this, just as he always knew the right words to say, just as he knew how to let the tide speak when there was no other way to say those words. And that, John supposed, is why he loves him.





	Every Color Under the Midnight Sky

**Author's Note:**

> So it's final season, which means lots of stress, which means me writing Johnchurch angst in an ill-conceived coping mechanism. Enjoy!

_Breathing. Loud rushed shallow. The last thing on his mind. As instinctual as an animal. The will to survive, to take in another gasp of air. Survival for its own sake. Breathe breath breathing. One more. Fighting against the inevitable until it becomes anything but. Screaming scratching biting kicking crying pleading hoping praying. Whatever it takes._

_Loud. Breathing breathe breath. Another. The last thing on his mind._

_Fear. Buzzing yet sharp. Seeping into every crevice of his brain and body. Slicing into his brain. The only sensation he can feel the only thing he can focus on keeping his mind tethered to the rest of him and his surroundings. Like being plunged into ice water. As instinctual as an animal staring into headlights. Frozen paralyzed motionless rigid hopeless consumed by despair. Terror. Absolute. Like death. No. NO! Must keep on running. Must. Keep on._

_Breathing. He rounds a corner. No time to rest. No exit. Trapped. A labyrinth of offices conference rooms lobbies. Lost. Not like he cares. Outrun survive the things that truly matter running. The soles of leather shoes colliding against the tiled floor. Shoes built for standing in front of crowds giving presentations lulling spectators into agreement not running. But that last detail has long since become moot._

_The sound of desperate footfall is muffled as the floor darkens and turns to the consistency of quicksand. Inky tendrils emerge, small at first. He doesn’t notice until they grasp at his ankles, immobilizing him. As he tries to pull away they grow in size seizing his torso restraining his arms and legs consuming him._

_Not again not again notagainnotagainnotagai-THIS IS WHAT YOU GET-notagainnotagi-John? John?-notagiainnotnotagainnot-YOU BROUGHT THIS UPON YOURSELF-notagainnotagainnotagainnotagainnotag-It’s me, Merle-notagainno-YOU MADE A PROMISE-notagainnotagain-You’re safe. You’re in our bed-YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE-You’re with me. Please, John, please stop-WE ARE HUNGRY-screaming. Oh Gods-YOU WILL PAY-everything is going to be okay, everything has to be okay-WE WILL GET WHAT WE WANT-you just have to get through this, John-YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE-you can get through this, I know it-WE WILL DESTROY ANYTHING IN OUR WAY-I know it’s hard, but listen to me-INCLUDING YOU-you’re strong enough-WE CRAVE IT-I love you-WE NEED IT-Just please-_

“Wake up!”

John awoke, throat raw. He was faintly aware of a horrible screeching noise coming from… somewhere? Close to him. It was almost as if it was coming within his own chest. And then, it stopped.

“Sorry to do that, but there have already been three noise complaints this past month, and it’s sorta my responsibility to, y’know, not be the source of that. You know how it is.”

John’s head jerked up, recognizing the voice. Right then he registered something warm pressing against his chest. When he saw the figure perched on top of him, he let his body slacken, head hitting the pillow. His lips unconsciously twitched upwards. He started to speak, but no sound came out.

“Whoops, just gimme a second to undo the spell.” The figure gestured, and John felt the magical restraint on his throat dissipate.

“I thought last time you said, and I quote you directly, ‘to hell with them.””

Merle laughed. It was a hearty and unrestrained sound, and John let out a breath he didn’t know he was still holding. “I did!” The dwarf exclaimed. “Then Artemis gave me a stern talking to, and now I’m telling you that you need to shut it before someone starts bitching.”

“Oh? And what did Sterling say he’d do?”

Merle pondered the question for a moment. “Something about… fuck, what was it?” As Merle rattled on about the expenses of reinforcing the manor with even more soundproofing, John felt laughter bubbling in his chest. There was something about this entire situation that was just so _funny._ Before he knew it, he was howling with laughter.

He wasn’t quite sure when the laughing had turned into sobbing, but he was suddenly aware of the sensation of Merle’s arms wrapped around him. The pressure on his back where Merle was squeezing him, bringing John’s body ever closer to his own, the warmth exchanged between them – the sheer emotion and intimacy was almost too much to bear, but John needed this like he needed air.

He buried his face into Merle’s hair. “It was the same fucking nightmare,” he choked. “The thought of it happening again, losing everything, everyone…” his voice trailed off, but Merle completely understood the words that were left unsaid.

They remained in that position – John clutching Merle like he was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, and Merle holding him right back – for what felt like hours. John wouldn’t have minded if the embrace actually lasted that long. But eventually, Merle’s arms loosened, and John felt their absence in the form of warmth lingering on his back.

Merle silently slid off the bed, and John followed. The dwarf retrieved a blanket from the closet, then made his way downstairs. The only sounds were the two men’s footsteps and the waves gently battering the shore. As they emerged into the cool night air, John couldn’t help but watch them. How they leapt onto the shore, sprinting at first, then slowing. How they scrabbled at the sand in an attempt to get just one inch further, stopping when whatever forces controlled them overtook their desperation. How they reluctantly retreated back into the ocean, but then bounded back onto the shore with renewed vigor and triumph. How the cycle repeated. Again. And again. It was hypnotizing.

“–John? Hello? You there?” John snapped out of the trance, turning his attention to Merle, who was sitting on the blanket. He was patting the space next to him, and John took the invitation to sit down next to him. They let the waves do the talking for a few minutes, before John spoke up. “I see why you like the ocean so much.”

“Yeah. It’s… it’s something, ain’t it?”

John hummed in agreement. His gaze drifted upwards, from the water to the night sky. Bottlenose Cove was a fair distance from the nearest big city, so the stars pierced the darkness. Millions of them. Burning with – well, John didn’t know with what. He reached up, as if to grab them, but just ended up blocking their light. He frowned.

As he lowered his hand, Merle took it into his own, planting a kiss onto each knuckle. He started by pressing his lips against the base of his index finger, and when he reached the pinky, he kissed the area below the index finger yet again. He made his way across John’s hand a second time. Then a third time. Again. And again.

Despite himself, John’s lips curled upwards. 

“Y’know, I remember being up there. In the sky.” Merle responded by kissing the base of his ring finger. John continued. “I was… so _big,_ Merle. The stars were huge. Enormous. But I was bigger.”

Merle squeezed John’s hand as he gave it one last kiss. “Well, how do you feel right now?” He asked.

John was caught off guard by this simple question. But then again, there was something so undeniably _Merle_ about it. Like this tradition that they had carved out for themselves, sitting on the beach when John’s night terrors made falling back asleep impossible. Merle knew this, just as he always knew the right words to say, just as he knew how to let the tide speak when there was no other way to say those words. And that, John supposed, is why he loves him.

He contemplated the ocean as he thought of an answer to his lover’s question. It didn’t take long for him to come up with one.

“Happy.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you have finals, good luck!


End file.
